Gifted

2

Erin dangled her bare feet off the roof's edge as she surveyed the scene below. It was a large piazza that held a thriving night market where traders from all over the City come to sell a vast array of food, clothing and furnishings, and it was Erin's favourite hunting ground. Many carriages and horsemen also pass through the piazza as its position on the border of the south-east quarter and the more affluent central and northern districts made it a convenient junction between these areas. It was a crowded, chaotic place full of loud noises and exotic smells but, most importantly for Erin, it was also full of plump purses and inattentive patrons. Erin was a pickpocket, and a very good one at that. Pale and dark haired, she was a scrawny girl of fourteen but her slight frame and large, loose shirt made her seem younger.

She was perched on the tiled roof of a tailor's shop that was crammed in on one side of the piazza and she was looking for her first mark of the night. From her vantage point, she swept the swirling crowds with a practiced eye but saw nothing worth her attention. A closer observation was required. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched her spine out like a cat before shimmying down a nearby drainpipe. She entered the mass of people, allowing the current of the throng to drag her lazily through the maze of stalls, all the while looking for opportunities.

After an hour combing the square, she had made little progress. A handful of fresh cockles pinched from a fishmonger helped fill her stomach but that was the extent of Erin's haul, save a few sharp blows from wary traders. Erin was frustrated: she had a reputation to uphold and a quota to meet. She was one of the eldest residents in what was known among the local urchins as the Rathouse. Run by an elderly man called Arlo, the Rathouse was a hostel of sorts where the orphaned and forgotten children of the City could trade their services as thieves for a safe bed and hot meals; as a retired tradesman, Arlo was one of the few fences who had contacts that allowed him to sell stolen goods without risking the wrath of the law. Most kids drift in and out of the Rathouse as their luck on the street allows, but a sharp mind and unusually light fingers had allowed Erin to be one of the few who could afford permanent residency. Erin's talents had gained her notoriety within criminal circles such as hers and it was this notoriety that allowed her to claim this piazza as her own turf. Any other pickpockets who stray onto her patch risk a savage beating from Erin.

Erin continued to patrol the market for a little while longer, managing to pluck a purse from a drunkard's belt. She clambered to the top of a small stack of wooden crates and opened the purse but found it to contain only three small coins. She had just decided to move to a different street a little further north when something indescribable tugged at her attention. A group of three men were carving a path through the gaggle of people, their quick purposeful strides making them stand out against the shuffling press of bodies. Two of the men were City Watchmen who wore peculiar masks that hid their faces while the third man was dressed in a grey suit and had the stench of wealth about him. Erin watched them closely as they crossed the square in front of her and found herself strangely drawn towards the group. The grey man touched his hand to his left side and Erin's eyes narrowed. The grey man's movement was small and likely involuntary, but Erin's thieving instincts recognised it for what it was – he was checking that something was still in his jacket pocket. Erin smiled. This could be exactly what she needed. Erin knew that whatever was in the grey man's pocket must be valuable: the armed guards and the grey man's concern for the object made that apparent. But there was also something more, something that pulled her towards the object in the grey man's pocket. A fierce, irrational desire for the object burned hot in her soul.

She jumped down from the pile of crates, landing with graceful ease then trotted off after the three men. She wove her way through the crowds until she was a few paces behind the men, then she slowed to match their pace. The two guards would not make this an easy take for Erin and she knew failure could easily have a fatal result, but her professional pride and so-far meagre takings spurred her on. Erin knew she had to hit the grey man from the front to get to his inside jacket pocket, so she had to overtake the men. However, they had exited the piazza now and were on a wide, cobbled street. The noise and chaos of the market that Erin used to conceal herself were disappearing fast, so she couldn't simply run ahead of her target. She required an alternative route.